


Vacancy

by WriterToBridge



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterToBridge/pseuds/WriterToBridge
Summary: "Paul finished his evening routine with the feeling that the routine was the most out of place thing he did in weeks."After the war and the award ceremony, Paul Stamets is starting to fully understand that he has to live life without Hugh Culber by his side.





	Vacancy

Paul finished his evening routine with the feeling that the routine was the most out of place thing he did in weeks. The process was too silent, too vacant, too lonely. Way too lonely. He didn’t want to admit it, but the feeling was too strong to ignore.

He walked out of the bathroom, away from his tired reflection, and stepped into the rest of his quarters. Their quarters. There are traces of memories; dancing, laughter, kisses, murmurs, gentle touches, late night whispers. He could almost see each vision. They were like ghosts refusing to leave the place they no longer belonged. Paul wanted to scream, to use his voice to scare away the specters that haunted the lonely void. But he also wanted to reach, to reclaim, to relive. Instead, he stood in silence and stared, not really seeing, the shadows of the past.

Then he walked to the nightstand that wasn’t his and picked up the medal that wasn’t his.

The medal was the same as his own. It had the same silver, the same edges, the same Starfleet pressed symbol. Only this one was held by a small strip of black fabric. That damn black fabric. He ran his thumb along the side of the silver, along the precise cuts that made the track rugged. He didn’t feel it. All he felt is his own black. His own damn black.

After a minute - or was it more? He couldn’t tell - he put on a uniform jacket over his pajamas and walked down the hall. He didn’t want to admit to himself where he was going. He didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to be there, somewhere, with someone so his black wouldn’t feel so empty. He didn’t know if it would help, but maybe… maybe…

He made it to the door. Quarters. They weren’t his. That was a relief. But he hesitated. But still, reached for the door chime. It was only then he noticed that he brought the medal with him. It shimmered with a muted silver under the dimmed lights. His throat tightened. He swallowed, closed the space between his hand and the chime, and pressed the button. He heard the computerized bell ring on the other side. Then silence. Were they asleep? It was possible. It was pretty late. Not so late, but given what happened recently, they were likely asleep. Part of Paul hoped they were. They didn’t need to see him like this. They didn’t need to see his pain. They didn’t need to see him without–

The door opened. Sylvia Tilly was standing there. Her red hair was down, cascading onto her own pajamas. For a fraction of a second, she had a neutral smile on her face. It faded into wide eyes and a small frown.

“Lieutenant Stamets,” she said. Her voice would have betrayed her surprise if it wasn’t so obvious on her face. “Is everything okay?”

No. Everything wasn’t okay. Everything was awful. He went through his nighttime routine without the stress, the preoccupation, the risk of death at every turn, and now he had to live, really live, with the fact that Hugh was gone. He wanted Hugh. He needed Hugh. Hugh had been there all this time and now he wasn’t sure he could live without the man at his side. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t anyone?

Tilly reached out her hands, took his wrists, and guided him inside. The door closed behind him. The hiss broke the silence.

“Tilly, who was it?” Michael Burnham asked. She was likely in their shared bathroom. But Tilly didn’t answer. Paul thought to, but that thought was jarred out of him when Tilly pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug, but only because he was too stunned not to.

She was warm. She was here. She was alive. But Hugh. His Hugh.

Paul couldn’t hold it in anymore. The pain and hurt rushed through him. He buried his face into her shoulder and sobbed. The tears came. He let them. Even has a third hand pressed between his shoulders and rubbed his back, he let them.


End file.
